Waiting
by Angel who can't fly
Summary: "Rosette, you waited for me. Now it is my turn to wait for you." A fanfic about what I believe happened after the epilogue of the manga and many years after. Please R&R!  Spoiler Alert! Manga Based
1. Part 1

SUMMARY: _Rosette, you waited for me. Now it is my turn to wait for you_. Year 2002, FBI Agent Christina Ross is sent to investigate the run down Seven Bells Orphanage. She doesn't find what she's looking for, but she finds something more precious. (Spoilers, manga based)

Disclaimer: I do not own Chrono Crusade

Note: Contains Spoilers.

A/N: I really loved the ending of Chrono Crusade, the manga! But since I felt that there were so many unanswered questions, I decided to write a story that could possibly fill in the missing pieces, according to me of course! Please Review, but most of all, Enjoy! (And did you get the clue from her name?)

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**WAITING**

**1**

"_When I was little, I hated waiting the most. That's why I was constantly running and running. But that is no longer the case, for I am no longer a little girl. Now I know that waiting is just another form of fighting!" ~Rosette Christopher_

**1982**

An elderly woman slowly walked through the field of graves, a large bouquet of flowers in her arms. The sun was about to rise on that day in March. Although it wasn't the ideal time for a woman like her to be out, she needed to get out of the house before anyone noticed that she was gone. The children in the orphanage were quite feisty during the early hours of the morning. Today was an important day, thus she came out despite her condition. This may, after all, be the last time she'll be able to visit.

She stopped and smiled slowly at the sight of a man sitting by the grave. It's been years since she last saw him, and yet she could never forget him for his tattered cape and his long violet hair. "Chrono," she called.

He looked up lazily at her. As expected, he hasn't changed at all. "Azmaria… Az… you've changed," he commented.

She laughed. "It's expected, quite unlike you, I see. You won't even change your style of dress, Chrono."

He cracked a small smile, although it's quite obvious that it was a forced one.

"So you come at this hour," she commented, looking up at the painted sky. "No wonder I never see you anymore."

He didn't reply. Perhaps he had nothing to say. He just tore his gaze away from hers.

"Come back to the Seven Bells Orphanage, Chrono."

He looked up at her, without surprise or emotion in his eyes.

"You can't keep wandering. There's no purpose. Even Joshua would agree with me… even Rosette…"

"I'd rather not, Az," Chrono said, moving to stand up. Perhaps he intended to leave. "It's better to wander than to wish for a time that will never return."

"Please, Chrono!" she exclaimed before coughing. She fell unto her knees, dropping the bouquet and allowing the flowers to scatter on the green, green grass of the hill. Alarmed, Chrono immediately bent down and took her arm. "I'll take you home, Az. You need rest," he said as he helped her stand up once again.

"Chrono… I don't have much time left…" she said in a regretful tone.

"Don't say such things, Az. You still have things to live for!" Chrono said. "Come, I'll take you back to the orphanage…"

"Wait, Chrono… I can stand just fine now…" Azmaria said. Chrono let go, although he knew very well that she was just forcing herself to stand. She knelt down by Rosette's grave, took what she could of the scattered flowers and laid it next to the tomb. "It's me again, Rosette, Azmaria. I think you already know this, but Chrono's with me. That's great, right? Especially since I haven't seen him for a while. Joshua's fine as well, he's healthy. He'll drop by later I believe. Why didn't I come with him? I snuck out you see?" she giggled. Chrono smiled at the sight. For that one minute, she seemed to transform from an old lady to that vibrant, young girl of 12 from more than half a century ago.

"You know, Rosette… I just want to say some things before I go…" Azmaria said with a sad smile on her face. The sun had fully risen already then, defining the beautiful colors of the morning. "I may die at any time, Rosette… I'm getting old already. I'm afraid, Rosette. Afraid to die," a tear rolled down her pale cheek and dropped on the stone grave. "You were so courageous, Rosette, did you know that? I think you did. I told you often… how you lived everyday or your life knowing that your end was near… And I… I probably wouldn't be around if not for you. I just want to tell you that if I die tomorrow, all those years I lived from the day I was 12 until now is all thanks to you." Tears began overflowing and Azmaria dropped her head into her hands. Chrono touched lightly her shoulder. "Come on, let's go home," he said in a low voice. Azmaria wiped away her tears and stood up. "Yes… the children must be worried to fine me gone… especially since I'm in this condition…" She looked at Rosette's grave again and said, "I'll do my best to be back next year as well, Rosette," before reluctantly turning away.

**2002**

Perfect, as usual.

Christina Ross lowered her gun with a huge, smug smile across her face. Her eyes twinkled vibrantly with pride as she scanned her victims, series of red and white targets that had a small, black hole right in the middle. "Good job, Agent Ross!" she heard a small voice behind her say. She turned around and saw her partner in crime, Agent May, standing right behind her. Agent May was a petite woman with childish features, which caused many to mistake her for a school girl when in casual clothing. Little did any know that she was in fact a black belt in Karate and Judo.

"Thanks, May," Christina replied. Christina Ross was a stunning beauty. Her pale skin complemented well her black suit she constantly wore to work. Her long, blonde tresses were often left to tumble down her slender shoulders. Her baby blue eyes constantly had a twinkle in them. Her knee length skirt and stockings showed off her long legs. Along with that came a feisty and willful personality. "So what brings you here today? Practicing your shooting as well?"

"No," May said with a little laugh. "I prefer my legs and arms to do the damage. My shooting skills are nothing compared to yours, Blonde Haired Queen of Precision."

"Flatterer," Christina said, playfully slapping her partner and close friend.

"I did come here with a message. You have to investigate a rundown orphanage. If you're willing to wait until next week, I'll be able to accompany you," May said. She was scheduled for a vacation starting tomorrow. Her mother was sick, and May asked for a temporary leave to visit her.

"Nah, it's alright," Christina said. "I'll just investigate the place. I promise I won't get into trouble while you're gone, May."

May giggled. "Never happens." She said playfully before leaving.

Christina followed her friend out with a smile on her face. A smile which immediately faded minutes later. A tall man leaned by the wall near the entrance to the shooting range. He smiled upon seeing her. It wasn't any smile. It was that smug, overconfident smile she hated. "What is it, Agent Blackwell?" she asked indifferently. She wanted to show him as much as possible that she didn't care about him in the least. They weren't even partners.

"Well, I was wondering if you were free on…"

"Sorry," she replied, forcing a smile. "I'm busy." She walked pass him, without even looking back. She found it strange at first why he insisted on chasing after the only girl who didn't care the last about him. "You're a trophy he's after," she heard from May the day after he started making moves on her. "He knows that you've rejected every guy that confessed to you." Sorry, she told herself after she learned that. Christina Ross is no one's trophy.

And for some reason, she never wanted to go on dates. She never had the usual teenage urges of love and marriage like many of her peers have. Heck, everyone around her is either married or engaged and she doesn't seem to care. It's like she already chose the solitary life for herself. She has never had a crush. While many of her peers in high school had celebrity crushes and experienced their 'sweet sixteen' to the fullest, she never bothered. Instead, she found herself drawn to sports like archery and even games girls usually wouldn't bother playing. She admitted it sometime in the middle of her high school years. She was a tomboy.

She sighed as she sat on her desk, flipping open the file for the mission she was about to embark on. Maybe it was about time she started caring.

* * *

The Seven Bells Orphanage was closed down several years ago for unknown reasons. Perhaps, they found it more ideal to raise the children in a more modern setting. This place was in the middle of a forest.

Agent Ross took out her gun. She needed to proceed with caution. Some reports say that smuggling syndicates were using this place as a trading post. She leaned against the wall just beside the door and peered into the musty window. Nothing. She opened the door and peered in. Nothing again. She stood up and walked in.

The walls were dirty and the tables were covered in dust. It was obvious that no one had come here for a long time. She looked around. Broken glass riddled the wooden floor. Chairs were placed neatly with the table and was also covered in a layer of dust. She opened the door leading to a bedroom. Quite unlike the dining room, this room was relatively clean. This alarmed her. She took a look around. The bed was covered in a layer of dust, but she found it odd that it was still dressed in a large comforter and a snow white pillow. Wouldn't the owners want to take those things with them? The side table had traces of dust, but it was obvious that someone had touched it in the past year. A picture frame stood there and a pocket watch. Agent Ross, unable to control her curiosity, picked up the picture. It had four people, a woman, a boy, a nun and a young girl. Not much of the background could be seen, but under her breath, she muttered, "A festival…" she clamped her mouth. How did she know that? She dropped the picture, causing the frame to break into several glass fragments. She picked the picture up again. There was writing at the back. _Rosette, I made you a copy of the picture of us four together. I know this must mean a lot to you. But I know that someday, Stella and Chrono will be back and we can again take another picture. All we have to do is wait, right? Take care for now ~ Azmaria, June 1930. _1930? She thought. She flipped the picture. This picture is around 70 years old. Who was in it? What secrets did it hide?

A noise. She placed the picture on the table and ducked behind the bed. She gripped her gun, ready to shoot at any given second. The door flew open and she immediately pointed the gun at the intruder, shouting, "FBI! Don't move!"

The stranger was a tall man, maybe in his twenties, with long violet hair and a part of his face bandaged. His arms were bandaged as well, and his right arm was missing. He was dressed quite oddly, being covered in a dirty, torn cape.

He didn't react to the gun pointed at him. In fact, he didn't seem to care. "You are?" he asked calmly. It was scary, like he was expecting her.

She didn't lower her gun. "Agent Christina Ross, FBI."

"Well, I am not who you think I am. I am allowed to be here," he said. He glanced at the picture on the table. "Did you break the picture frame?" he asked without looking back at her.

She slowly stood up and lowered her gun. "Yes, I did. I'll return to replace it and throw the remains of the old one."

"You don't need to," he said. "If you did, there would be no one to appreciate it. And report back to the FBI that they don't need to send anyone else. The smugglers will no longer be returning here."

His words stunned her. It was only when he opened the door to leave did she regain her voice. "Wait...! Chrono, wait...!" The door closed on her words, and she clamped her hands over her mouth. What did she just say?

To be continued

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This is my first Chrono Crusade fan fiction, so I really hope you enjoyed it. I'm not sure if you really got all the things I'm hinting through out the part, but it's alright since everything will be revealed in the end. I'll try as much as possible to update fast after this. Of course, it also depends on the number or reviews I get! so if you liked this, please leave a review :)

This was actually meant to be a short story, but after writing around 5 pages I realized that I have to cut it. So I'm posting this part first. I have no idea how many chapters this is going to span. When I was writing this, I was also listening to the ending song of the anime, Sayonara Solitaire. I really prefer the ending of the manga more than the anime and thought that the tune of Sayonara Solitaire really fit it.

That's all for now. Until next time!

~Angel who can't Fly


	2. Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Chrono Crusade

A/N: The good thing about the epilogue of Chrono Crusade for fan fiction-ers is that it's very vague. To me, it's a very well thought off ending. Good Job, Daisuke Moriyama. And another thing, were there copy machines back in 1930? How did Azmaria make a copy of the picture? =)) guys.

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**Waiting**

**2**

"_I've never stopped running. I've always felt that if I had stopped, something would swallow me whole. But, whenever I run, I also lose something precious along with it. I cannot run anymore. I can only wait…"_

**1932**

This was a story that wouldn't have its happy ending.

One month.

One month after his return was when she met her end.

He spent most of his time in the orphanage during that month. If he wasn't among the kids, he was in her room. He probably knew it was probably only willpower keeping her alive. Willpower usually doesn't take one very far. Nobody knew how he felt during those times, not even those closest to him could tell. He showed the world a sunny disposition each and every day, as if he were glad to be home. After her passing, though, he just disappeared. Some say that he quietly watched her pass away, then left without another word to anyone. He wasn't even among the crowd that attended her funeral.

March, 1932.

Azmaria, sleeping in the orphanage that day, passed the room and peeked into the crack the door left as it was left ajar. They were talking, like the friends they always were. Rosette was lying down on bed. It must have been even an effort to look at his face and even to speak. He was holding her hand, like every night. She did tell him that she didn't want to die alone. Perhaps she was afraid for the hour she knew would eventually take her. With a sad smile on her face, Azmaria tore her gaze from the sight and silently walked away, not knowing that that was the last time she would ever see that sight.

Az didn't know the exact time, but at the dead of the night, the bell of church where Chrono and Rosette once again reunited began to ring. Its chimes were heard loud and clear to those within its range. Many grumbled at the ringing of the bell during such an ungodly hour, but to Azmaria, that bell meant much more. Without a second thought, she ran to Rosette's room, wishing that perhaps her guess was wrong, that perhaps when she entered, Rosette would be sitting up and looking towards the direction of the church as well.

That was not the case, for she had already passed away by then. They say she passed with a smile on her face, like she had lived a fulfilled life within those twenty plus years of her shortened life.

Letters were scattered all over her desk. Those were her last words. Those who knew her the best treasured them forever.

In one of those letters, there was one single line that probably stood out the most. It was obvious much effort was placed to writing this last line, and it held evidence of tears.

_Chrono, I'm glad you came back._

_Rosette Christopher_

**2002**

She brought it home.

She wondered what she was doing. But on her way out, she saw on the side table a glittering golden watch. It was a pocket watch connected to a long golden chain. Perhaps it was once someone's necklace or perhaps it went into the pocket of some gentleman.

Right now, she couldn't really comprehend what she was thinking at the time. In fact, she was stealing! Not something a Fed should be doing. She stood up, catching herself in that weird phase again where she would find herself staring at the golden watch. She sighed, placing the watch next to a small cardboard box. She had bought a frame that looked very similar to the broken one. She hoped that amidst the missions, she would still find time to return to the Seven Bells Orphanage.

Again, as she threw herself on her bed, she sighed. Ever since she was small, she was always the oddball. She swapped dolls for guns, dresses for trousers because she believed they were easier to run around in. She didn't have any siblings, so how ever was she drawn to the life she had now? She closed her eyes. Ah… she remembered now.

She always had these dreams.

In these dreams, she seemed like the strongest person around, felling things twice her size or even bigger. She remembered clearly the great feeling of confidence she had in her as she shot each bullet. And there was someone else… but she couldn't remember his face. It was a guy, yes. She remembered that much. He had long, braided hair, a long coat and a huge metal backpack around as big as he. But no matter how she tried, she could never remember his face.

Ever since, she craved for that feeling in her dreams, the feeling of confidence in every shot, the pride of felling beings twice or even thrice one's size. Although she was always in a dress in her dreams, she eventually swapped them for a pair of pants. When she got dirty, she didn't care. She felt that feeling, and that's all that counted. When she got her first gun, she couldn't wait to shoot it. She must have spent hours in the shooting range the first few years of her training. She would often skip lunch just for it. Perhaps she was addicted to that feeling.

But now-a-days, she hasn't been having the best of dreams. Her occasional dream of that became something much, much more depressing. The first was around a week before that mission to Seven Bells Orphanage. She dreamed that she was on a train, looking out into the snow capped horizon. Sadness filled her heart at that moment. It wasn't the scene outside the window, or her silent seatmates. There was something else. The woman in front of her said something that she couldn't now remember. In rage, she stood up and shouted, "What do you know?" She found it odd, yet she didn't find it strange at all. "Then why are you always looking outside the window? Is there someone you're looking for outside?"

That's right.

Who am I looking for?

She woke up at that moment, tears streaming down her face. Although she never dreamed that dream again, she always remembered the snow capped horizon that gripped her heart with a fierce sadness.

She opened her eyes. Sitting up, she looked outside. The view of the city was beautiful. She looked beyond the city lights and thought, what was happening back in that abandoned orphanage in the middle of nowhere?

Abandoned? Was that the right word? She then remembered the man who she had unknowingly called Chrono. Was he a caretaker of the place? Having been dressed in a torn coat and dirtied clothes, she very much doubted that. Unless he didn't know what laundry is. Everyone knows what laundry is, right?

She looked away from the window. Perhaps, she thought, it was time for me to return there again.

* * *

On the morning of her long sought after leave, she threw open the closet doors and shifted through her clothes. What could possibly be appropriate for a trip like this? Her attention was immediately drawn to a sun dress that she unwittingly bought with her friends. They told her that one day, she wouldn't regret buying that thing. She took it out, felt the material. She was always in a skirt in her dreams, right? That feeling welled up again in her chest. But hastily, she pushed it back into her closet. It was fine when walking the streets on a pleasant Sunday morning, but not for going to the middle of nowhere and going into an abandoned building. Eventually, she chose a normal casual attire of denim pants and a shirt. She even brought her gun, although not allowed. She wanted to make sure that she had the means to protect herself. After all, that place may still have smugglers roaming around.

There was something about that place she needed to see again. Unanswered questions swirled in her head as she drove there. But these she did not entertain. She stuck with the feeling that the Seven Bells Orphanage had some sort of connection to her dreams.

Minutes later, she found herself in front of that old orphanage again. She looked up at it, took a deep breath and walked in. She placed no caution this time. She found that strange. Was it because of the words of that stranger?

She looked around, noticing that nothing had changed. Everything was still covered with dust, the curtains were still dirt black and torn to the point that it could be called shreds the next time she stopped by and the room she had entered last time still had its door shut. It was as if her visit last week had never existed.

She returned to that room, finding the shards gone and the picture still laid flat on the wooden side table. She took out her picture frame and slid it in, smiling when she saw how good a 70 year old picture looked in that picture frame. Then, she took out the broken pocket watch with an intention to put it back.

But a sudden light from the pocket watch stopped that. Surprised, she instinctively pushed the watch away and closed her eyes to avoid being blinded by the bright light. Opening her eyes again, she found that the watch had been fixed. The glass was whole again and the hour and minute hands spun round and round without stopping. She was freaked. A lot of things that freaked her happened in this place, though. She did nothing but watch, and as she did, the minute and second hand pointed to the 12 o'clock position. She sighed and tried to put it back, but when she did, she noticed that the hands had moved again. Perhaps it was trying to tell her something?

She left the room, the watch in hand. It pointed northeast. Is this a watch, a compass, or both? She asked herself as she followed the direction and watched as it changed to the 12 o'clock position once more.

It was pointing to a room. She entered it, and it looked pretty much the same as the last, a bed, a side table, and a writing desk. Only, on the desk laid a worn journal. With her heart pounding, she gingerly picked it up. On the cover, written with a beautiful script penmanship, was : Azmaria's Journal. It made her wonder. What made her leave it here?

When she opened it, she found a neatly folded paper inside. It was still white, protected from the elements by the notebook. In a foreign handwriting, the name AZMARIA was written. Under that name, it was written in Azmaria's handwriting: _Chrono, thank you for bringing back to the Seven Bells Orphanage. I don't know why, but even when I'm leaving, I had a feeling that it __had to be there__. ~Az_

Having too much in her arms, she decided to put the notebook and the pocket watch on the table. When she did, the hands of the watch began to spin chaotically. An image was then projected from the clock.

Long, silky, silvery hair. A pair of wings. Clad in a pure and white dress. The woman looked like an angel. Christina was taken aback, captured by the image of the beautiful, slender woman. The woman looked down at her, and then knelt down. The angel touched her lightly. Her lips moved, smiled then she slowly disappeared.

"Sister Rosette Christopher… there's someone waiting for you…"

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Thanks for the reading again! ;D I'll try to update as much as possible!


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